


Last Stop on Memory Lane

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Moving On, Revisiting Old Friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-17
Updated: 2012-09-17
Packaged: 2017-11-14 10:45:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/514405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam promised Sarah Blake that he would see her again, but somethings just aren't the same the second time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Stop on Memory Lane

_“You know there's a lesson in all of this.”_

_“What's that?”_

_“We all got through this in one piece. I didn't get hurt.”_

_“Yeah I'm glad for that.”_

_“So, maybe you're not cursed. Maybe....maybe you'll come back and see me.”_

_“I will.”_

 

            The door to the auction house squeaked as Sam pushed it open.  The place was filled with antiques but empty of people.  He walked through the aisles of vases and paintings.  A giggle echoed through the space, followed by small footsteps.

            “Sam!” a man’s voice called.  Sam spun around, looking for the source of the voice.  His hand hit a large oriental vase, knocking it off the stand.  Sam deftly caught the vase just before it hit the ground as small girl skipped into view.

            It was a miracle that she could see anything through the long brown curls on her head, but she wove her way through the aisles.  Sam stood holding the vase, with a confused look on his face.

            “Samantha! Get back here before you break something!” a man jogged into view, looking rather worn out.  He ran a hand through his tangle of shorter brown curls, Samantha’s father obviously.  He noticed Sam and frowned.

            “Sorry, sir. Were you interested in the vase?” he asked, straightening his shirt and walking over to Sam.  Sam looked down at the vase and shook his head.

            “Oh, no. Sorry. I just…ah, is Sarah here?” he blurted.  The man got a confused expression.

            “Who’s asking?” Samantha gave up on running away and ran to her dad’s side, demanding to be picked up.

            “Sorry. Sam Winchester. I’m a friend of Sarah’s from-” he looked at Samantha who was staring at Sam with wide grey eyes “…from college.” The man nodded.

            “I see.  Well, I’m Brian, Sarah’s husband.  Sam you said, right?” Sam nodded as the man walked over to a near by counter, setting Samantha on top. “That’s what we call our little Samantha here.  She’ll be two next week.”

             Samantha looked up at Sam, smiled mischievously before hopping off the counter and running away again.  Brian sighed, but let her go.

            “You know, I think Sarah may have mentioned you, your name sounds familiar.  But I’m afraid you just missed her.  She went to the store.  She’ll be back in about an hour, if you want to wait.”

             Sam paused for a moment, then shook his head.

            “I was just passing through town and should be getting back on the road.” He turned and began walking away.

            “I’ll tell Sarah you stopped by.” Brian called.  Sam nodded and left the warehouse.

             He sat in the car for 43 minutes, half of him convincing himself to leave but the other half determined to wait.  Sarah’s car pulled into the parking lot of the auction house, and Sam found himself holding his breath.  She got out of the car, running a hand through her brown hair.  She was every bit as beautiful as Sam remembered her, it was almost like she hadn’t changed.  Like somehow he had gotten a glimpse of the past, and maybe he could pretend that nothing had changed since that time.

             Samantha darted out of the auction house, and Sarah stooped to pick up her daughter, swinging her in a circle.  Brian followed behind, greeting his wife with a kiss.  It was then that Sam knew it was time to leave.  At one point in his life, he would have given anything for that kind of life.  And a very small part of him still did.  But with every case, every struggle with powers beyond his control, the part grew smaller.  He started the Impala and drove away, thinking to himself that there are just some things you can’t come back from.  There is a point of no return, and he had crossed that a long time ago.


End file.
